My husband is an angel - or an 'ohhn-jah' as Carmen would say, when describing her Christmas jammies or the snow-angels that Peter makes in 'The Snowy Day'. He is on a date with Carmen at Grandpa's house, to give me the house to myself... to mope, sulk, wheeze in peace.
I am ill. Dreadfully, pathetically ill. Can't breathe through my nose, can't wear glasses because they are too heavy on my face. I've peed myself about 10 times today (yes, I'll admit it) because my pelvic floor can't withstand the force of my phlegmy coughing. My ears feel like someone is driving bamboo skewers into them. I've had one or two good cries today. A little self-indulgent, but I was feeling really sorry for myself because I can't take any drugs due to this (not-so-little) guy...
I've cancelled my classes today and tomorrow, which is a lot of work in itself. Taking care of Carmen is nearly impossible. Today I placated her with Playdough and hot chocolate. I feel so bad for her and Bella, trapped inside all day while the pristine white of fresh snow decorated the front yard.
And now it is raining all that fun away. Maybe it is just a dream, like Peter in 'The Snowy Day'. Maybe we will wake up to a winter wonderland again...
